The Artist
I want to give a huge shout out to my nephew and dear friend, Brian Quirk, who recently released his first solo album, What Makes You Happy. Let me tell you, his happiness makes me happy! All partisanship aside, this is an impressive piece of work, with clear, strong lyrics that will resonate with listeners, and hummable melodies which wend their way into one's consciousness and find themselves welcome to stay!
The Angst
I must admit, though, Brian's success is causing me a bit of angst. I had a chance to chat with him the other day, and he shared some of the marketing tools he's been using to make his work known. He really is quite the self-promoter, and shares himself with the public in such a winsome way. Alas, the old comparison monster has reared its ugly head, and I'm finding myself wanting to "catch up," so to speak, with where he has landed, and do more to launch my product.
Numerous blog ideas have made their way into my mind of late, but I haven't taken them to the next level. They haven't graduated from scribbled notes into finished pieces of composition. I'm just irritated enough with myself today to try to change that.
The Whining
One reason for my procrastination has been general busy-ness. School has started, and this isn't like any other year. Normally by this time, the lay of the land would be pretty much settled. Educators might not adore each and every class or student, but they would have their schedules and routines well in hand.
I don't mean to sound petulant. My superiors are working their posteriors off to adapt to the constantly changing school landscape that used to be so straightforward; all people like me have to do is jump through each new hoop they lay out for us. And on that note, the chain of command has taken time they really don't have to add a new role - cheerleaders to those of us in the rank and file, making sure we know our efforts are appreciated, and mistakes, forgivable - to their already cornucopia-ish plates. And let's not even mention health care workers and policy makers, who have been camping on the front lines for months now.
Still, the fact is I've been tired. Physically tired, but also ministry-weary. My dearest friend and I have taken an active approach in that department, teaching Bible studies and hosting prayer meetings, and we've ramped things up since the virus came along. We've been tag teaming each other (truth be told, her share of the load has weighed heavier than mine much of the time), and we've even built a day off into the picture, but the work is as real as the needs, and we feel both keenly.
Again, I hear myself sounding whiny. I could easily edit out the complaining, but I'm trying to be honest here. Honest with myself about why I'm not popping out book proposals as fast as Netflix churns out ill-conceived "art" for unsuspecting viewers to devour. And honest with my readers, which is something I always strive for. If I can't be transparent with my audience, I ought not to call myself a blogger, let alone an aspiring author.
Enough already! I said I had things to blog about, but the ideas that have been rattling around in my brain are no closer to making it onto the page than they were when I started this post a week ago! So, without further ado (or excuses), I'm going to spit them out in the order they present themselves to me.
The Waste
I recently saw a gorgeous Lincoln Town Car. The vehicle was well cared for in every way, inside and out. For example, the owner had placed antique model cars and a pillow bearing the image of Abe Lincoln on the rear deck, along with a carefully folded American flag. The upholstery and body were immaculate.
Sadly, though, a trespasser (and maybe his gang) had wreaked havoc on the otherwise pristine automobile. Atop the hood lay the unmistakable results of some ignoble, winged creatures having mistaken this work of art for a public restroom.
Moral of the story: nothing in this life is perfect. We can dress ourselves up and strive for perfection, but life is messy and bird poop finds all of us eventually.
The Tongue
My latest affliction of middle age is sleep apnea, a condition apparently caused by the tongue relaxing during sleep and blocking the airway. I've been duly diagnosed through the use of a home sleep test, which involved rigging myself up with an octopoid set of wires, then trying to ignore the clumsy apparatus and nod off.
Having achieved the impossible and fallen asleep, the unthinkable happened. That's right - the other curse of midlife, which I affectionately call the "wee hours wee" - only on this occasion, there were one or two encumbrances to, uh, work around.
A good night's sleep was had by all. Not so much.
Um, I don't think so.
Who knew all these years my tongue has been the enemy?
I mean, I have known it to be a bit unbridled at times in the eating and speaking departments, but up until now, I hadn't viewed the thing as a life-or-death offender. So, now, apparently, not only do I need to reign it in during waking hours, but when I'm unconscious as well.
Good to know, even though it'll never happen.
Takeaway: James was right when he condemned the tongue!
The Tragedy
COVID-19 has done its work and done it well. It's cost this world in general and our nation in particular untold numbers of lives and jobs, not to mention any sense of normalcy. Now it's threatening the body of Christ. Never-maskers won't go to church because masks infringe on their freedom, and always-maskers stay away because they fear the germs from never-maskers.
Here's a thought: while the virus has absolutely provided an opportunity for gross overreach among governing authorities, it is most definitely a very serious and contagious condition. Since medical professionals can't all concur on the importance of masking, how about Christians agree on the need for consideration of fellow believers? Unless I'm mistaken, the weaker brother passage is still alive and well in the Good Book. Seems like this might be a fine time to dust off that concept and exercise it accordingly.
Before adherents to either position get their feathers ruffled, I disclaim any disrespect to either viewpoint; both have valid reasons for their positions, and as has been noted, even the medical community has not reached complete consensus. But it would truly be a tragedy if, in defending our freedom of conscience, we actually helped worldly authorities destroy church life in America.
The Dynamic Duo, AKA, Hovering and Covering
I'm going to end here on a positive note. While we are nowhere near Passover in the calendar year (either Jewish or Julian), I have recently gained insight into this holiday of deliverance that I hope will encourage many.
The Hebrew word "Pesach," which is usually translated "Passover," has shades of meaning. One of its connotations has to do with hovering in an effort to protect. The impact of this is that, not only did death "skip over" the Israelite households during that awful night, but the Lord Himself hovered over the homes of His people to save their children from destruction.
The Jews were already familiar with the idea of blood being needed to atone for, or "cover," a person's sins. On the night of Passover, the lamb's blood covered the Israelites' doorposts, keeping them safe from the angel of death.
While no one can promise believers immunity from disease or calamity, it's pretty comforting in these times to know our great God has a history of hovering over those who fear Him, and covering their sins for all eternity.
Do you know the safety found in the Savior? If not, I pray you will leave a comment below asking for more information about this vital subject. It would be my privilege to help you make His acquaintance!
